


Sammy Baby

by saviorbrother



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Self-Harm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-04
Updated: 2015-02-04
Packaged: 2018-03-10 09:55:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 876
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3286022
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/saviorbrother/pseuds/saviorbrother
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt: Sam is depressed, nervous, and dealing with PTSD after he get's his soul back; he starts smoking, and cutting (which is something he used to get up to before Stanford). </p>
            </blockquote>





	Sammy Baby

The flick of the lighter is familiar as he takes a long drag. Bobby and Dean are inside, finally asleep. Dean said they needed down time. Sam still feels like he’s all wrong.

He takes a deep drag as he fiddles with the razor in his hand, cool against his fingertips.

Sam wishes he didn’t have to sneak out of bed, away from Dean’s embrace, just to do this. Just to hurt himself.

Like the razor will cut him open and the bad blood coursing through him will seep out and he’ll be tainted a little less. And the smoke will settle into his lungs and kill whatever hasn’t been able to creep out of his veins.

Sam takes a deep breath and pushes up the sleeve of Dean’s flannel he’s wearing, God he’s probably gonna get his blood all over it; taint his brothers clothes too.

He lets out the smoke in a shuddering cloud and presses the razor to his skin, above red marks, pale marks, still bloody marks, and cuts across slowly.

He takes another drag, watching a thin rivulet of blood trickle down his forearm. His hands shake, but he makes another one, and another.

Cuts thin and neat so they’ll heal faster and go mostly unnoticed. Also so he can make new ones.

He finishes the first cigarette and lights up another one with shaking hands, and then cuts again. He hasn’t done this in so long, years. But that feeling of having control, feeling a little more free, a bit of a rush.

He doesn’t feel so sad or jittery.

Doesn’t notice the cigarette that has fallen from his mouth or the few tears running down his cheeks. Or the fact that Dean has opened the front door.

But Sam hears the screen door open and he yanks the sleeve back up with a gasp.

And there is Dean in all his heart breaking glory. So fucking amazing and looking comfortable in just his white boxers, hair wild, shoulders strong, and green eyes lazy but intense.

Sam wishes he fit in his skin like Dean.

 

Dean just slides up behind him, muscled arms wrapping around Sam and chin resting on his shoulder.

"Dean—"  
“You’re not okay. Not sure if you ever have been,” Dean mumbles.

His brothers hand pulls up the sleeve of his own shirt, just to witness the mess Sam has made of himself. His blood is drying and Sam kinda panics.

He doesn’t want the evil to be soaked back into his skin.

"Sammy Baby, my Sammy Sweetheart," Dean hums, swaying with the wind.

Its like they’re dancing, Dean’s cooing is their music, his voice a beautiful rasp against Sam’s skin.

Sam sniffles, snuggling back into Dean and letting him sway with the imaginary music.

"We’re gonna make it alright. Not today, not tomorrow, but at some point. I know you don’t feel right," Dean whispers, kissing at Sam’s neck softly.

"I’m so sorry, so sorry—" Sam ends in a hiccup, tears falling.

But Dean shakes his head, shushes him and holds him tighter. Thumbs brush over his scars gently.

Dean turns him around by the hand and dramatically dips him. Then they’re wrapped together again, this time Sam facing him.

"My Sammy Baby, my Sammy Sweetheart," Dean whispers again, smiling slowly as they go around and around in a circle.

It makes Sam’s heart flutter and his breath catch. His brothers eyes search his face and he spins Sam around again, twirling him till he’s faced with Deans smiling face.

"Shouldn’t mark up all that beautiful skin. Shouldn’t breath in all those toxins," Dean is speaking low, like a song.

His hand is in Dean’s and an arm around his waist as they keep going round and round.

"My Sammy Baby, My Sammy Sweetheart."

Sam hums, laying his head on Dean’s shoulder.

"Shouldn’t cry, not with such nice eyes. Shouldn’t have been without me tonight," Dean hums into Sam’s hair.

Sam’s chest doesn’t feel so ripped open and his lungs don’t burn. The wind is their tempo and the moon their spotlight.

"My Sammy Baby, My Sammy Sweetheart."

"My Dean, Mine," Sam breathes, nipping at Deans shoulder.

Dean hums again, hand slipping under his flannel.

"Love you tonight, and I’ll you forever. For longer than I’m alive."

Another spin, another dip. Crinkle at the edges of green eyes, sharp canines during a laugh. Sam laughs with him.

"I’ll see you in heaven, My Sammy Baby, My Sammy Sweetheart."

"Mh, mh, mh," Sam hums as they press back together, stepping side to side.

His skin doesn’t feel so restricting anymore.

"Dance with me tonight, won’t you," Dean laughs quietly against Sam’s lips.

"My Sammy Baby, My Sammy Sweetheart."

"Mh, mh, mh," Sam giggles a little.

"My Dean, mine."

Dean kisses him again, wet and gentle. And Sam falls in love again.

Dancing in the moonlight with the wind as their guide.

Swaying with his brother, his lover. Calloused hands clasped in his as he gets spun, dipped, and lead side to side.

Their whispers and quiet laughs nothing to the night.

"My Sammy Baby. My Sammy Sweetheart. Won’t you be mine forever, not just tonight," rough whispers against his smiling mouth.

"Mh, mh, mh. My Dean, Mine.


End file.
